


as real as it seems

by estrella30



Category: 5 Seconds of Summer (Band), One Direction (Band)
Genre: First Time, M/M, Touring
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-04-15
Updated: 2013-04-15
Packaged: 2017-12-08 15:22:44
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,000
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/762924
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/estrella30/pseuds/estrella30
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Harry hovers for a second before dropping onto the sofa and sprawling out, legs splayed wide and his head tucked into Michael’s shoulder. Michael’s smaller than Harry and he smells like dirty clothes and bus and like he probably smoked a bowl with Calum before sitting in front of the telly. Harry nuzzles into Michael’s side and Michael laughs, bumps the beanie back on his head and settles further into the couch as he shoves a controller in Harry’s hand.</p>
            </blockquote>





	as real as it seems

**Author's Note:**

> so...idk, I guess I am kind of shipping this? idk Michael is cute and Harry seems ridiculously happy with him and I was ok with all the couch cuddling but then the hickey tweet happened and the penis t-shirt and I AM NOT MADE OF STONE, OK??? so yeah. anyway. fic! 
> 
> thanks to xcarex for the beta and to all the aussies on my twitter feed for the aussie pick lol. any remaining mistakes are my own!
> 
> oh! also! I didn't include the underage tag but Michael is 17 in real life so if that bothers you please don't read!

*

Harry grabs a banana from the craft services table and peels it as he wanders down the hall. He’s got some time to kill before they do sound check and he’s dead bored. The lads are either all off talking to their girlfriends on their mobiles or napping on the bus which leaves Harry restless and at loose ends. 

He knows he should be enjoying the rare bit of free time he’s actually got to himself but he’s not. No matter how busy they get, Harry loves it; he loves the energy, loves the rushing around and the bustle. Sure, he gets tired from time to time, but there’s really nothing that he would skip doing just to get some sleep. He can sleep later, he likes to think. When he’s older and all of this slows down; right now though, things are happening and Harry’s not going to miss any of them just to have a kip on the bus. 

He hears a telly playing in a room down at the end of the hall and when he pushes the door open he finds Michael lounging on the sofa playing a one sided game of FIFA . 

Harry watches quietly for a minute then says, “How can you be doing that poorly when there’s no one even playing against you?” 

Michael jumps, letting out a startled yelp. “Fuck, Harry, wear a bell around your neck or something, yeah?”

Harry laughs and finishes the banana as he crosses the room and throws the peel in the bin. “Sorry. Fancy a game together?” 

Michael shrugs. “Sure. The rest of the lads fucked off and I got bored so I headed down here.”

“Yeah,” Harry grunts. “Same.”

Harry hovers for a second before dropping onto the sofa and sprawling out, legs splayed wide and his head tucked into Michael’s shoulder. Michael’s smaller than Harry and he smells like dirty clothes and bus and like he probably smoked a bowl with Calum before sitting in front of the telly. Harry nuzzles into Michael’s side and Michael laughs, bumps the beanie back on his head and settles further into the couch as he shoves a controller in Harry’s hand. 

“Mmm,” Harry hums. “You smell nice. The dirty jumper smell is dead sexy.”

“Is this your shitty attempt at trying to pull me?” Michael jokes. Harry laughs and bites at Michael’s shoulder but he doesn’t answer. “I have to tell you that if this is what got you laid four hundred times in the past year, I’m not impressed.”

“Piss off or I’m going to do something terrible to you,” Harry says slowly.

“Ooooh, scary,” Michael sounds decidedly _not_ frightened. He laughs a little; the vibrations roll through Harry’s chest. “You’re such a dickhead. Are we playing or what?”

Harry laughs again and throws his leg over Michael’s lap as he starts the game over from the beginning.

*

Harry’s not lonely, that’s not it at all. He’s got Liam if he wants to hit the gym or Zayn if he wants to talk or Niall if he wants to go out and blow off steam or Louis if he wants grab a bite or kick around a football. And there are so many other people around when they’re touring: Lou is there with Tom and Lux sometimes and Josh and Sandy and Dan. Even Paul is all right to grab a pint with if Harry’s really searching for someone, but he just – he feels, sometimes, like he wants to check on Michael and the rest of the band just because. He feels like he needs to look after them or something. 

Harry knows it’s stupid and unnecessary. They’re not children and he’s barely older than them himself. He just remembers what it was like to be young and new and thrown into a strange situation like they’ve been. He remembers when it was him and the others being the opening band, the new guys that no one had even heard of, and he feels like if he can do anything to make things easier for Michael and the rest then he will. If Harry can make things seem even a bit more normal then he’s going to do whatever it takes. 

Harry’s always enjoyed meeting new people, and being able to meet so many people all the time is one of the most amazing things that Harry’s gotten from all of this. As far as he can tell, every single person he’s lucky enough to get to know has something Harry can learn from them, and he likes to keep pieces of them all; their bright parts and their happy parts and all the things he can tuck inside to fill up some of the cracks he’s got in himself, hidden in the places that he won’t let anyone else see.

He likes all of the lads in their opening band but he’s always liked Michael a little bit more than the rest. Michael is funny and goofy and kind of a flirt and he reminds Harry a lot of himself from a few years back; happy and excited and ready for anything. Harry should probably be helping Michael avoid making some of the same mistakes Harry made a year or two ago and he does, a bit, but mostly he just likes hanging out with him. Michael makes him laugh and not think too hard about things and they have fun. 

Sometimes that’s all Harry really needs. 

*

Michael follows Harry when he heads out to Perdu even though Harry tells him not to. 

“’M’good,” Harry narrows his eyes and focuses; tries to focus, at least. He’s possibly had a few too many drinks to be first going out but whatever. Everybody else gets to fuck off and do whatever they want without a million people watching whenever they’re off and sometimes Harry just wants that too. He wants a night out to drink and listen to music and talk to people without everyone else around. 

“You should go back,” Harry says. “You don’t have to keep following me.”

“I thought we were hanging out tonight,” Michael rolls his eyes and tugs on Harry’s wrist. He doesn’t seem as small as he usually does when he’s up this close and Harry notices that. He trips a little into Michael’s space and smiles at him as genuinely as he can. “Just come back with me you fucking knob, we can drink in your room if you want to get pissed. _More_ pissed,” Michael adds with a grin and a chuckle. 

“Don’t wanna go to mine,” Harry rubs a hand over his mouth and shakes his head. He just wants to _go_. He wants to be _out_. Christ, Harry loves his life but sometimes it can be bloody fucking _stifling_.

“All right,” Michael says patiently, “then we can go to _my_ room if you don’t want to go to yours.”

Harry thinks it’s funny, how Michael’s trying to be so in charge here when he looks so painfully young and out of place standing in the middle of a crowd in front of a club in the middle of the night. Harry shivers, the cold night air blowing through the mesh of his shirt and he rubs his hands over his arms and leans in closer to Michael’s heat. 

“I’ll come by later, yeah?” Harry ducks his head against Michael’s ear, cupping the side of his face and pulling him in tight. There are so many people around them; their voices are loud and the weight of their bodies is shifting and swaying Harry closer to the door. He can hear the shutter of cameras and see the flash of lights behind his eyelids when he closes his eyes and breathes in deep against Michael’s skin. “Just go back; I’ll come see you when I get in.”

Michael rolls his eyes and gives Harry a wave and nod, and leaves him. 

*

Harry drinks too much and laughs too loud and talks to too many people and possibly loses his shoes, he’s still not sure about that. He’s only been gone for about an hour when his mobile starts blowing up, his security getting restless waiting for him outside and ready for him to be done with whatever he’s doing and Harry gives up. He tosses some notes on the bar and says goodbye to the group of people he’d been talking to. 

“Fine!” he shouts as Paul and Andy roll their eyes and grab him by the scruff of the neck. It’s even colder out now, the wind blowing strong and stinging his heated cheeks. “’M’just tryin to have a little fucking fun.”

“We’ll see how much fun you’re having with a seven am wakeup call,” Paul mutters as he manhandles Harry into the back of the car, his fingers thick against Harry’s shoulder when he shoves. 

“Hey! Be nice!” Harry shouts. “I bet you don’t treat Liam like this when _he_ goes out for the night!”

“The next time Liam drunkenly loses his shoes in a bar in Glasgow, I’ll make sure to treat him exactly the same,” Paul mutters and slams the door. 

Harry plans to give him shit the entire ride back but the minute the engine roars to life Harry’s dead asleep. 

*

Harry rubs his eyes and pads down the hall to Michael’s room. He thinks about ringing him first but he’s too fucked to deal with his mobile and anyway, Michael’s room is close enough and oh, look at that, he’s already knocking at the door, his knuckles pounding out an irritating rhythm. Whoops. 

It doesn’t take Michael long to answer. He pulls the door open and he’s in a ratty grey t-shirt and a pair of red and black striped joggers. His hair is sticking up even more than usual and Harry peers over his shoulder to see if there’s anyone else in the room with him. 

“How’d you get a single?”

Michael shrugs. “Was rooming with Cal but he fucked off to get pissed with Ash and Luke.”

Harry nods. He remembers sneaking beer and booze into their hotel rooms when they first started touring, everyone staying up as late as they could manage just because there was no one around to tell them not to. He remembers every single day feeling like it was a vacation, like he was waiting for someone to show up one day and tell them all they needed to go back to Uni or get jobs or whatever because it was all over. 

Everything had always seemed too good to be true to Harry back then. He still feels like that now to a point, but they’ve all grown up so much, gotten more friends and new hobbies and different interests. It’s not that this is bad, it’s just that it’ll never be like _that_ ever again.

“You coming in or are you going to stand in the doorway like a douche all night?” Michael rolls his eyes and Harry laughs and goes inside, closing the door behind him. 

Michael’s got the telly tuned to a sports channel and he’s already at the bureau pouring Harry a drink from the bottle of rum he’s got up there. Harry falls back onto the sofa and kicks off his trainers. He’s still cold from the air outside and he rubs his hands over his arms to warm up. 

“You want a jumper or something?” Michael puts Harry’s drink down on the side table and starts digging through his open bag on the floor. “You look like a whore I picked up on the street in that fucking thing.”

Harry raises his eyebrows and grins. “You pick up a lot of boys in club shirts on the street then, Mikey?”

“Ha ha,” Michael tosses a thick grey jumper at Harry’s head and rolls his eyes. “Such a fucking comedian.”

Harry laughs a little but he pulls off the black shirt he’d been wearing and shrugs into Michael’s jumper. It’s soft and warm and just a little too small, the sleeves pulling up too far over his wrists. He feels Michael’s eyes on him and he shoves over on the sofa, making room for Michael to drop down next to him, his left side pressed firm against Harry’s right. 

Harry sips his drink and leans into Michael, dropping his head against Michael’s shoulder. His eyelids feel heavy and he puts his drink on the floor before he does something dumb like drop it or spill it all over the two of them. Michael’s arm is stretched out over the back of the couch and Harry fits his mouth in the juncture between Michael’s neck and shoulder. He breathes out and watches Michael shiver. 

“What’s the matter, you couldn’t manage to slag off at the club so you decided to come here to do it?” Michael’s voice is scratchy and rough. Harry smiles a little to himself and touches the tip of his tongue to Michael’s throat. He watches the fingers Michael has on his leg spread out then dig hard into his own thigh.

“Something like that,” Harry says, then leans in closer and bites. 

Harry loves shit like this. Loves touching people and kissing them and sucking bruises into pale skin. He sets his teeth hard into Michael’s flesh and sucks, feeling the blood rush under the skin, Michael’s throat hot under Harry’s mouth. Harry sets his foot on the floor and pushes up so he’s hovering over Michael on the couch, groaning low in his throat as Michael curls his hands around Harry’s waist to hold him in place. 

“This okay?” Harry pants. He pulls back and admires the bruise; it’s already looking dark pink and mottled against Michael’s skin. “Too much?”

“No,” Michael says. His legs splay out wide and he yanks Harry back down from the back of his hair. “Do it more.”

Harry smiles against Michael’s skin and leans back in, sucking harder into the bruise. Michael whimpers and grunts, rocking his hips up into the air. Harry wants to get him off and then stick his hand into the front of his own jeans and fuck into his fist until he’s coming in his pants, aching and breathless like he’s fifteen again, hiding in the dark of his bedroom with a bloke snuck away into his bed. 

The bruise is going purple, the skin hot under Harry’s mouth. It must hurt by now, he thinks, but every time he goes to pull away Michael drags him back so Harry keeps going. He opens his mouth wider, licks over the thin skin and set his teeth in and pulls. Michael’s got his hand shoved into his jogging bottoms now, his shirt rucked up over his stomach, and he’s shoving up hard, chest hitching with every shaky breath. 

“Fuck, Harry, I’m gonna come—“

Harry reaches over and covers Michael’s hand with his and Michael’s eyes fly open, wide and startled as he comes in thick, shuddering pulses. Harry just keeps his hand there, feeling Michael’s cock jerk under his fingers until he can’t take it anymore and he’s popping the button on his own jeans and dragging down the zip.

“’M’gonna come on you, all right?” Harry asks, because he’s going to do it no matter what but a little warning might be nice. Michael grins and laughs quietly, breathless and shaky and covers his face with his other hand. 

“Sure. Fuck it. Why not,” he says around a small laugh and Harry grins and shakes his head and fucks into the curve of his fingers a few times until he’s done, cock jumping and come streaking over Michael’s pale belly.

Harry falls forward, dropping his head against Michael’s chest and touches the bruise on Michael’s throat lightly with his fingers. Michael shudders and jerks back, the skin obviously sore and sensitive. 

“S’alright?” Harry asks quietly. 

“Yeah,” Michael says and grins shakily. “It’s great. I love it. My favorite souvenir of the tour so far.”

Harry laughs and pulls away, still half on Michael’s lap, his hand curled around the back of Michael’s neck. He doesn’t want to say anything about it and make it into a _thing_ , but he feels like he has to say something; that if he doesn’t say anything he’s ignoring a huge mistake Michael might make without even meaning to. 

“You, um, might want to try and cover that up for a few days,” Harry says. Michael looks at him, eyebrows raised in a question. “At least until you’re out with someone other than me that could have given it to you.”

Michael looks genuinely confused. “Why?”

Harry sighs. “It just might be better for you, yeah? I mean, I don’t care about me, honestly, but people could be… shitty to you about it. It just might be easier if you didn’t say anything or show it for a bit.”

Michael’s quiet. He watches Harry with dark eyes and says, “Do _you_ not want me to say anything about it?”

“No, I don’t mind,” Harry says truthfully. “I’m just thinking what might be better for you. Easier for you and your band to deal with and all.”

“Hmm,” Michael says and pats Harry’s hip as he stands up. “Well, we’ll see. Now do you want a new pair of pants or are you going to sleep in the ones with the jizz in them?” 

Harry laughs and shakes his head and catches the pair of pants Michael tosses at him right before they hit him in the face. 

*

Harry wakes up Saturday morning to the sun shining bright through the hotel window and his mobile buzzing with a text. He thumbs it on and finds a new message from Michael.

_so I didn’t say anything for a few days but then realized that was stupid. Real eyes realize real lies yeah?? so fuck it check your twitter xxx_

Harry does and then falls back in bed, grinning and happy.

 

-end-


End file.
